Dust Sprites and Maturity

One a bright, dry Oklahoma day a young boy was kicking at clods of dirt to see the clouds of dust transforming into brown and red wind sprites. My grandfather, who was standing nearby, smiled and pointed at the jets high overhead, leaving their vapor trail for everyone could see. He said, " Do you see those jets? Their pilots have air masks to breath, yes?! Well, what do you think happens to their air when you send that dust up?" I immediately stopped, because I could visualize the pilot coughing. Twenty years later, I remembered that dusty Oklahoma day as another dust sprite was launched by my stride. Recalling the wisdom of my grandfather, I walked more carefully . . . And for a dusty moment I thought I could see my grandfather smiling back at me. And I smiled back.